


The Best Laid Plans

by Wizard_of_Ozzie



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-02
Updated: 2017-11-09
Packaged: 2019-01-28 15:47:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12610064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wizard_of_Ozzie/pseuds/Wizard_of_Ozzie
Summary: Sofia Falcone swept into Gotham like a cool breeze—refreshing to some and ruffling the feathers of others.  Story starts after Gotham S4-E6.





	1. Chapter 1

Penguin lit the candles on the small table and stood up, his eyes carefully inspecting every item on the bright linen tablecloth.  He quickly straightened a fork, finally satisfied that everything was just so. He knew he was being obsessive, but at least it was a way to kill time as waited for Sofia to arrive.  He walked over to the wall’s light switch and adjusted the dimmer to give the large empty lounge a more intimate, cozy feel.   He didn’t sit down, remembering the last time he’d sat there uselessly waiting for a Sofia that never arrived, and he didn’t want to jinx things this time.

_Why am I so nervous?_ He asked himself worriedly.  _It’s_ _only_ _lunch_.  _But it’s lunch with Sofia Falcone_.  He told himself, answering his own question. 

“Don’t worry Boss.  She’ll come this time.”  Zsasz said, as he leisurely strolled into the lounge, staring at the white tablecloth and fancy place settings.  Penguin scowled, his eyes flinging daggers in Zsasz’s direction.

“Why are you here Zsasz?”  Penguin growled in annoyance.

“I wanted to give you an update on Pig Man.”  Zsasz answered smoothly.

“You got him?”  Penguin asked, his face lighting up anxiously.

“We staked out all the places in the city with fresh pig heads, liked you asked, but he beat us to the slaughter house.  By the time we got there, all we found was a dozen decapitated swine.”

“I take that as a NO.”  Penguin sneered, obviously irritated.  “Well get back out there.  FIND HIM!”

After Zsasz left, Penguin plopped down on the nearest seat and hung his head down, sighing loudly as he angrily pounded his fist on his thigh.   _Now that crazy bastard has twelve more pig heads. If he uses only half of those Pax Penguina will be Shit Penguina.  I’ve got to find a way to stop that psycho._ Penguin acknowledged with desperation.

“Oswald, are you okay.”  Sofia asked, entering the room and making her way to his side.  Penguin looked up in surprise, quickly masking his startled expression with a smile, as he stood up to greet her.

“Sofia, how are you?”  Penguin asked brightly, taking her hand and giving it a gentle squeeze.

“I’m doing well.”  She answered, feeling mildly uneasy, as she observed that the smile on his lips didn’t quite make it to his eyes _.  Is he still suspicious of me?  I thought my little orphanage ploy would have finally won him over._ Sofia pondered apprehensively.

“Let me show you to our table.”  Penguin offered graciously, as he gingerly placed his hand on her elbow, guiding her to the table, before pulling out her chair.  Once they were seated, Sophia reached across the table, her fingertips lightly brushing his.

“You seem preoccupied.  Is something wrong.”  Sofia inquired softly.  Her question caught Oswald off guard.  He hadn’t realized his distraction was so apparent.  _She’s quite a perceptive woman._   He realized.

“Just a minor business issue I need to resolve, nothing cataclysmic.”  Oswald answered light-heartedly.  “I’ll deal with it later.   Right now, I’d prefer to enjoy lunch with my lovely guest.”

“Trust me, talking business won’t stop me from enjoying our lunch.  Actually, I think I’d find it far more interesting than discussing the weather or other mundane topics.”  Sofia nonchalantly replied.

“Ah, you find my business _interesting_?  Penguin probed, his suspicion aroused.

“To be truthful, I find everything about you interesting.  You must admit, you’re quite an intriguing person.  You’re a rare combination of intelligence, daring, and drive. I imagine people have a lot of varying opinions about you, but I’m sure none of them think you boring.”  Sofia admitted, a bit self-conscious when she realized how earnestly she meant what she’d said.  Oswald felt himself blushing and hurriedly put a forkful of salad in his mouth to hide it.  His composure regained, he swallowed and looked up at her.

“I suspect you’re quite intelligent, daring, and driven yourself. Probably more than a little cunning, too.”  He said, smiling slyly.  Sofia’s eyes narrowed for a moment at his comment, then she thought about it more and smiled.

“Well, I’ll take that as a compliment.  After all, I am my father’s daughter. Maybe that’s why I’m drawn to that dangerous, exciting energy that seems to permeate the air around you.”

”So, you like playing with fire?”  Oswald teased darkly.

“Yes, I like it _hot_.”  She purred as she stared into his intense, widening eyes.  Suddenly embarrassed by how forward she’d sounded, she turned away and took a larger than intended gulp from her wine glass.  Oswald, sensing her discomfort and attempting to mask his own, quickly changed the subject.

“I assume you’ve heard of Professor Pyg.”

“I read the Gotham Gazette’s headline story.”  Sofia replied.  She leaned forward placing her hand on his.  “But I bet you’ve got the real scoop.  Tell me.”  She whispered inquisitively, a playful lilt in her voice.

“All of the police murdered were on my payroll.”

“That’s not surprising, when you consider most of the force is on your payroll.”

“True, most of the cops are receiving a piece of the licensing action, but these cops were a bit higher up on the food chain.  They were my bagmen and bagwoman.  The cops responsible for making payoffs to the other cops.”

“Any baggers still on the streets?”

“No, that psycho got them all—north, south, east, _and_ west.”  Penguin angrily admitted.  “I had intentionally kept the number low.  Just cops I could trust not to skim off the top. Cops I wouldn’t need to whack for stealing from me.”

“Hmm, putting out just one new bagman might be a temptation Pyg can’t resist.”  Sofia suggested, a plan forming in her head.

“I get it.  Set a trap with the bagman as bait.  I like the way you think.”  Oswald said a smile spreading across his face. “The first step is finding a new bagman.  Cops aren’t exactly lining up to take to take the job, after what happened to the last bunch.”  Oswald added, his brow furrowing as he pondered his options.

“Does it have to be a real cop?”  Sofia asked.  “Maybe what you need is a ringer.  Someone tough enough to take down Pyg, even if Pyg figures out a way to separate your bagman from the back-up muscle you’ll have discretely tailing him.”

“Why do I think you’ve already got a candidate in mind?”  Oswald asked with a knowing smile. 

Sofia beamed back at him, enjoying the seamless way their minds clicked together.  _The two of us would make an awesome team._  She mused, pleasantly surprised by the realization.

“Well, as a matter of fact, I do.” Sofia informed him proudly.  She was thoroughly loving this—a chance to prove she has what it takes to be a major player in Gotham’s underworld.  An opportunity her father always denied her.  “I visited my sister-in-law this morning, she’s working as a ringside doctor at Cherry’s fight club.  She told me about a new fighter that just came on the scene.  She says this guy is built like a Mack Truck and probably strong enough to lift one to boot. Not only that, he’s virtually indestructible.”

“ _Really_ Sofia?  That sounds pretty hard to believe.”  Oswald responded, tilting his head to the side and raising an eyebrow.

“I know, I know.  It sounds like a pipe dream, but Lee, she’s not prone to hyperbole.  If she says it’s the real deal—it’s the real deal.”

“Lee?  _Oh_ , you mean Lee Thompson-Falcone.  Of course, she is your sister-in-law.”  Oswald said with a slap to his forehead.  “You’re right, she’s no flake.  I wouldn’t take anything she says lightly.  What else did she tell you?”

“The fighter, he’s not the sharpest knife in the drawer, but he does whatever his manager tells him to do.  And his manager is a money-hungry creep that’ll have him do anything if the price is right.  I think we should pay a visit to Cherry’s tonight and check it out ourselves.”

“Great idea!  I’ll pick you up at eight.”  Oswald said raising his glass.

“Perfect!”  Sofia agreed, as her raised glass tapped his.


	2. Cherry's Place

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oswald finds more than he bargained for at Cherry's Fight Club.

Chapter 2

_That same afternoon, in the Narrows…_

“You can get dressed now.”  Lee Thompson told Ed Nygma, as she folded up her stethoscope and shoved it into the pocket of her lab coat.   Ed looked at her anxiously, as he sat on the exam table wearing nothing but his boxers and a thin paper smock.  As she turned to pull the curtain aside and exit the small exam area, Ed hopped off the table and grabbed her arm.

“Wait!”  Ed pleaded. “You didn’t tell me anything.  Am I okay?  Did find something?”  Ed asked worriedly.  Lee chuckled, unable to control her response to the completely unwarranted look of fear and trepidation on Ed’s face.

“Don’t worry Ed.  I didn’t find anything suspicious.”  She said, using her best soothing doctor voice. “In fact, based on my physical assessment, you appear to be in excellent health.  Now, I’ll need to wait for the results of your blood work and a CT brain scan wouldn’t be a bad idea, but otherwise everything looks fine.”

“Thank goodness.”  Ed sighed in obvious relief.

"Also, I scored the cognitive tests you took earlier today and found the results to be quite interesting.”  Lee explained.  “You go ahead and get dressed and we can discuss them in detail.”

Ed was intensely interested in getting the results on the battery of written tests he’d taken earlier and hurried got dressed, not even bothering to put on his tie, a fact that kept nagging at the back of his mind, as he sat in front of Lee’s desk to get his results.  He looked across the desk at her as she scanned a stack of papers and fought back his almost overwhelming urge to snatch the papers from her and read them himself.  Lee, sensing Ed’s anxiety, decided sharing what she knew was probably wiser than making him wait for her to perform further analysis of the somewhat confusing results.

“As I said Ed, your test results were somewhat surprising.  The tests I gave you were designed to gauge your verbal, reasoning, perception, memory, math, and problem-solving abilities.  You came to me with concerns that you were no longer intelligent, but your test results were quite to the contrary.  Your scores were off the chart, clearly genius levels in memory, reasoning, math, and perception.  The strange thing was your scores in verbal and problem-solving.”   Lee stopped to study the results again, unsure of how to explain what she’d found. 

“ _Strange_?”  Ed asked, clearly agitated.  “THE TEST SAY I’M STRANGE!” An exasperated Ed shouted.  Lee was startled by his outburst and had to bite her tongue not to shout back— _Of course you’re strange.  You’re a fucking psychopath!_ Instead, Lee took a deep breath before responding.

“No, I didn’t say you were strange.  The test results were somewhat strange.  Now let me explain why.”  She replied in a calm, modulated voice.  “Your verbal competency score was relatively low.  Frequently a loss in verbal ability can be attributed to left temporal lobe brain damage, but LTL damage would also impact memory and perception.  Yet you tested remarkably well in both those areas.  Your score in problem solving was also low.  Losses in verbal and problem-solving abilities are frequently seen with frontal lobe brain damage, but FLD should also affect motor skills, reasoning, and personality.  I haven’t seen any evidence of those collateral effects.  I really need a CT brain scan to determine what if any damage exists.”

“Okay, let’s do the scan then.”  Ed injected impatiently.

“In case you haven’t noticed, this isn’t exactly a state of the art facility.”  Lee responded, her patience also wearing thin.  “I don’t have the equipment to perform a CT scan, but you can get one at St. Mary’s Emergency Room.  You need to go to the ER and tell them you fell, hit your head, and lost consciousness.  Also tell them that you’ve been experiencing nausea and dizziness.  With those symptoms they’ll be required to do a CT even though you don’t have insurance.  Tell them I’m your primary physician, then I can request a copy.  Do you think you can handle that?”

“Yes, of course I can.”  Ed quickly replied, hoping his false bravado would mask his self-doubt.

“Good.  Well you better get a move on, if you want to get back in time for tonight’s bout.”   Lee said, placing her hands on his shoulders and pointing him toward the door.  Once he was gone, she breathed a sigh of relief.  She wasn’t looking forward to seeing his CT report because she was afraid it would only confirm her suspicions that his problem wasn’t physical, but psychological.   She told herself that the Riddler’s mind was one rat’s nest she didn’t want to poke.  But there was a nagging little voice, in the back of her head, that said curing him, making him healthy enough to be a good man again, would be the most challenging, exhilarating, and satisfying case of her life.

 

_Later that evening outside Cherry’s Fight Club…_

Oswald had his misgivings as he exited his limo and took in the oppressive, dark squalor that seemed to saturate the air of the Narrows.  _This is no place for a proper lady like Sofia._   He thought, as he protectively placed his arm around her waist and guided her down the decrepit, gloom-filled alley to the fight club.  Sofia smiled as she felt the gentle pressure of Oswald’s arm around her back, intuitively picking up on the protective, almost paternal, nature of the gesture.   Their security detail, consisting of Brigit, Selina, Tabitha and Barbara, followed closely behind.  Oswald and Sophia had barely made it pass the club’s threshold before being met by the fight club’s owner, a smiling effervescent Cherry.

“Welcome!”  Cherry gushed, throwing out her arms in a welcoming flourish.  “Mr. Cobblepot, Miss Falcone, it’s a pleasure to have you visit my establishment.  Please let me show you and your party to the VIP viewing area.”  Cherry walked in front of them, parting the sea of raucous spectators and leading Oswald and his party up a few steps to an elevated seating area, directly at ringside.   “Please make yourselves comfortable. You’ve got the best seats in the house.”  Cherry told them, her eyes brightening as Oswald nodded in agreement.   Oswald peered approvingly at the ring, thinking. _We’re close enough to touch the fighters_.    

 

_Meanwhile, back in the fight club’s dressing room…_

Ed sat in front of the mirror applying generous strokes of black eyeliner above and beneath his eyes, in an exaggerated imitation of Oswald’s subtle make-up routine.  Ed couldn’t help but laugh, looking at himself with spiky bangs and no glasses.  “Oh my, I look just like him!”  Ed trilled in delight.  “Now to apply the finishing touch.”  Ed chuckled, lifting a half-mask, which was shaped like a thick black unibrow attached to a pointed bird beak-nose, and placing on his face.  Ed stood up, turning away from the mirror to face a bewildered Solomon Grundy, who tilted his head and gave Ed a quizzical stare.   

“TA DA!  The Penguin!”  Ed proudly proclaimed, flinging one arm high, as he struck a pose in a cheaply made, yet comical, parody of Penguin’s trademark tux and tails, complete with umbrella. “This is the perfect outfit for my debut as fight club announcer.  The crowd will love it.”

“Ed look good.” Grundy agreed, clumsily clapping his hands like a three-year-old.  Ed took a bow, thinking _.  I may not be the Riddler, but I’ve still got **flair**._

“Well, it’s time to get the show on the road.”  Ed explained, heading for the door.  “Grundy, stay back here until I come get you.  You’re the main event and we need to properly time your grand entrance.”

 

*******************************************************

 

 

 

“When’s this thing going to get started?”  Oswald asked Sophia, absently tapping his cane with irritated impatience.

“You should sit back and get comfortable.  The fighter we’re here to see is the main attraction and we’ll need to sit through all the undercard bouts before he comes out—wait, is that the announcer’s coming up?”  Sofia asked, staring at the tall absurdly-dressed masked man climbing into the ring. 

Oswald glanced at the man entering the ring will little interest, _until_ he observed the man limping across the canvas with an umbrella.  He immediately sat upright, taking in the man’s birdlike mask, long spiked bangs, and thrift store tuxedo.  _What the hell!_ Oswald said angrily to himself.

“As King of Gotham, I welcome you to Cherry’s Fight Club.”  Ed announced in a booming voice, as he threw up his arms with theatrical gusto.  “We have an outstanding lineup of events planned for you tonight.  In celebration of this magnificent night, I’m giving everyone here a free license.  A license to have a spectacular time!”

Sofia had been transfixed on the announcer, scrutinizing every aspect of his ensemble and delivery.  When she turned to see Oswald’s reaction, she was shocked to find his seat empty.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All comments are greatly appreciated. I need your words to help me find mine.

**Author's Note:**

> All comments are greatly appreciated. Hearing from you is what really keeps me going.


End file.
